The Reverend Dodgeson's Opium Den
by Foosemittee
Summary: The story of Lisbet Anders, Victorian-era drug dealer to the man also known as Lewis Carrol, and closet witch. Also partially inspired by the steampunk awesomeness of Abney Park.
1. Lisbet at Home

The walls looked as if they'd been stained by black and sticky smoke. An Oriental rug on the floor had been worn ragged with walking. Reclining on a chair in the corner, staring at wonders that no one else could see, was the Reverend Dodgeson.

"You should get up," Lisbet said insistently, tapping his shoulder. "You've a previous engagement, remember?"

"This is no place for a lady," he mumbled, making a vague shooing gesture. Lisbet laughed sharply.

"Since when have I been a lady, Rev?" Grinning, she yanked him out of the chair and snatched the pipe from his hand. Placing it on the mantel, she led him out into the hall. "A year you've been coming here," she grumbled, "and you've still got me looking after you as if I were your mistress."

"That sounds like a grand plan, my dear, but may I ask you…why does that cat smile at me like that? Is he mocking me?" The man looked rather annoyed by this apparent show of disrespect. Lisbet Anders, owner of one of the coziest opium dens there was, rolled her eyes.

"Aye, he's mocking you for being a lazy scoundrel, Rev. Now get out! The Liddels will think less of you!" She pushed him out the door and closed it behind him. After locking the door, she waved away the smoke that stung her eyes, and picked up the cat. She climbed the rickety old stairs to the second floor, and sat, staring out the window. The cat—a fine black creature scarred by his conquests—wriggled out of her arms and sat in front of her, twitching his crooked tail.

"Do you think he knows?" it asked finally, blinking its great baleful yellow eyes.

"That old fool?" Lisbet scoffed, perhaps softer than she meant. "He's too caught up in poppy dreams to notice an odd occurrence or two." The cat blinked again, purposefully, and walked out of the room.

Witches shouldn't fall in love, his thoughts declared. Especially not with ones such as he.

In love? "Damn," she hissed, looking out the window. "I have fallen, haven't I?"


	2. Out Walking

Lisbet wandered the cold, dank streets of Victorian-era London, wearing a charm about her throat to prevent would-be attackers from noticing her. Just outside of town, a well-to-do household was the residence of one Mr. Dodgeson.

"A reverend," she muttered, shaking her head. "Trust an Anders girl to fall for a preacher man." Frowning, she looked over a cemetery in decay. The stench from the pit was unbearable, and a charnel house nearby looked most ominous.

"What is an enchantress of your caliber doing in a place with such unsavory connotations?" a voice called out from a nearby alleyway. Lisbet turned, her hand on the dagger hidden in her cloak.

"Speak your name," she replied. "I've been known to grant wishes when the askers use manners." A man stepped out of the shadows. His hat was as lofty as his status, and he carried a cane topped with a silver handle.

"I'm called Harrison Earnshawe," he replied, tipping his hat. "I hear you deal in devilry." Frowning, Lisbet let go of her concealed weapon.

"Devilry is in the eye of the beholder," she retorted, glancing behind her at the mass of rotting ground. "As to your wish?"

"It's been granted," he answered, grinning. Lisbet fought the blush that threatened to rise in her cheeks. "I'd like to speak to you of matters that cannot be brought forth in public. Is there an address at which I might meet you?"

"I'm sure you already know the place," Lisbet muttered shyly, sidling towards the main street. "Come by on a Sunday."

"Any other day wouldn't be fitting," he replied in affirmation, before vanishing into the dark alley. Lisbet was sure that her familiar wouldn't approve of her inviting an unknown warlock into the house. She had done it anyway; he was cute—and rich.

…


	3. Victorian Vigilante

"I have a confession to make," the man said quietly, setting the china cup down on the table.

"I'm no priest, but I'll listen," Lisbet replied primly, refilling it instantly. "Speak."

"I came here hoping to commission a charm. It has to be discreet, and I really would prefer not to speak of it in detail unless doing so becomes absolutely necessary." The black cat twined itself around his legs. Surprisingly, Oberon had found the stranger to his liking, because 'they had similar attributes'—apparently the rogue-ish Mr. Earnshawe was more of a fighter than a lover.

"Mr. Earnshawe, it's naught to be ashamed of," Lisbet chided. "Lots of men are getting amulets for their favorite whores. Jack the Ripper is a dangerous man." She smirked.

"I hardly think that's something to joke about," the gentleman replied, trying his hardest not to laugh at such macabre humor. "But no, the task I have in mind will not be so easy." Lisbet sat up straighter, paying close attention.

"You name it, we cast it," she said automatically, realizing that her reputation as a witch could be at stake. Oberon leapt into her lap, watching with eyes like cinders. Harrison Earnshawe leaned forward, speaking quietly.

"I need you to give me speed, strength, and agility—enough that I'm as formidable as a man-sized version of that beast of yours—and all this without changing my appearance in the slightest." He looked serious. Oberon looked flattered. Lisbet stood, dropping the protesting cat to the floor.

"Are you mad?" she hissed, and he stood as well, far taller than her, and more dangerous.

"I may very well be mad," he replied in hushed tones of anger, "but what I have in mind is purely good, I assure you. My intent is to…" he paused, retracing his steps. "Miss Anders," he said softly, "my sister was shut up in an asylum after rejecting the advances of a man thirty years her senior. I know what injustice is. I know that our system is flawed. I want to fix things."

"You can't just go about becoming some sort of vigilante," Lisbet muttered. "People will notice."

"I fix things," Harrison Earnshawe growled. "That's what I _do_."

"Rich people problems," Lisbet scoffed, turning away and crossing her arms. "I'm not going to make you dangerous and nearly indestructible so you can punish whore-killers and lechers. There are far worse problems in need of fixing, and you wouldn't know that they existed, much less how to fix them." She felt a hand touch her shoulder and turned around, glaring. Harrison's eyes burned into hers.

"If you were to do this, I would be forever in your debt," he said quietly. "Miss Anders, simply tell me what I must do, and I'll do it. My aim is to help those that have need of my aid, regardless of status." He sounded honest, and he was truly passionate about what he meant to do.

"Come upstairs," she said finally, glancing at the cat. "We'll see what we can do."

…


	4. A Gift

Gentlemen were scattered around the room, lounging in a haze of sticky smoke. Lisbet ushered in a group of shadowy figures that soon spread throughout the room. As a seller of opium, she was expected to be a madam as well. Being a witch with the power to animate inanimate objects helped her save a lot of time and money…at that very moment, a man was soliciting certain favors from her feather duster, which seemed not at all opposed to the idea.

Suddenly, a steady hand knocked at her door. Lisbet headed towards the entrance as Oberon twined around her ankles, doing his best to trip her.

"Good evening," Lisbet started, throwing the door open. Her cheerful expression soon turned into a frown. "Mr. Earnshawe," she acknowledged. "What do you want?" The shadowy figure that stood before her was much more dangerous and much more agile than he had been before. Lisbet almost regretted her decision to help him, because he was powerful, and that worried her.

"I brought you a gift," he said disdainfully, tossing an inebriated Reverend into the hall. "He was lying in the road when I found him. Have a nice night, Miss Anders." He turned and vanished into the night.


	5. A Proposal And Some References

"Miss Anders, I know this sounds odd, especially coming from me, but…would you consider becoming my lawfully wedded spouse?" Lisbet stared. The Reverend Dodgeson was standing on her doorstep, watching her sheepishly.

"Rev, just because you're off the pipe, doesn't mean you owe me something," Lisbet muttered awkwardly. She'd read his book, and had decided that he was partaking of far too much of her wares. She refused to have him as a customer from then on, and had told other purveyors of opium that they weren't to sell to him, either. Being a figure of high standing in both the drug dealing and spell casting circles, the louts around town knew enough to listen to her. Since then the Reverend had become more of an upstanding citizen…in fact, the Liddels had started inviting him over again, seeing that he was a changed man.

"You're a marvelous woman, Miss Anders," the Reverend said earnestly. "Nothing would please me more than getting you off the streets and introducing you to society."

"Er…Society?" Lisbet blushed, embarrassed. "That's all fine and dandy, Rev, but ah…I'm afraid you've been upstaged by another suitor." The Reverend stood there a moment, confused.

"You mean…"

"I'm afraid I'm of a higher society, old chap," a man in a dark coat said confidently, appearing just over Lisbet's shoulder. "Not to mention the fact that the cat actually _likes_ me." Thoroughly befuddled, the man also known as Lewis Carroll made his way down the cobblestone street, headed back to his respectable neighborhood. He would go on to ask for the Liddels' daughter's hand in marriage, forgetting for a moment that she was, at the time, only seven years old. In fact, he proposed to several different people that same day, including a lamppost and a Mr. Gray who seemed almost willing to accept his proposal.

"I hear there's been a murder on the Rue Morgue," Lisbet confided to her fiancé. "Shall we?"

"I think we shall," Harrison Earnshawe replied, taking her arm. "I fancied a trip to France, anyway."

…


	6. A Legend is Born: Epilogue

The young lady looked up in shock as a dark shadow went sailing over the nearest rooftop, landing with an almost catlike grace on the cobblestones of the alley.

"Pardon, Miss, but I've been told you know a thing or two about a few illicit activities that have been occurring in the area," the gentleman growled, stepping towards her. His eyes glowed green and he appeared to have devil-like horns.

"That's quite an impressive transformation," Lisbet said with a smile, linking her arm with that of the now fully human-looking Harrison Earnshawe.

He turned to her and grinned. "Just call me Spring-heeled Jack."


End file.
